Wings
by sukikuro
Summary: "People ask me a lot why I love him.  Why I spend so much time chasing him when he never returns my feelings.  It's because I see something they don't." Series of oneshots. SpainRomano AntonioLovino
1. Souls

**This is a kind of weird oneshot. I'm not sure where it came from, it just kind of happened and I wanted to put it up. **

**The whole idea is that Spain can see souls or auras or something, which show up in different forms? Idk. **

**I don't own hetalia! **

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><p>He has wings. I can see them, they're real.<p>

I can see the way his wings curl, unfurling to twirl the air around him when he laughed or bit back a smile. I see how they wrap around his brother, hugging back when he so stubbornly wouldn't. They show me every carefully hidden emotion that he's locked away. I've seen how they struggled to keep him up and I saw how they couldn't quite do it.

There are things, there are people, in this world that reach much farther beyond it. Lovino, my beautiful little Lovi, was one of those people. He has angel wings, even if most people can't see them.

They're his soul, his mind, his very being, and they are beautiful.

When he was young I didn't want him. Looking at him, I could only see a lazy little boy with tattered, torn wings clinging limply to his back. I wanted his brother, the pretty energetic little one whose soul floated around him, dancing out to reach for others.

I remember the first time I lost my temper and yelled at him. I remember the way each word actually damaged those beautiful, lovely wings. At 'lazy' a feather, tinted red with blood, fell to the ground. At 'irritating' a small rip appeared on the left one, just behind his shoulder. 'Worthless' had that rip spreading down to the base of his wings, at his back.

By the end of my rant the soft white was turning a deep red.

And I had walked away.

I'd left him there bleeding to go sulk in my room.

It took me a long time to correct the damage I'd done, even now there are scars that I know are from me.

As time went on I realized that I could cure his wings as well. Not with any sort of magic or anything, with simple things. With words. I remember the first time I saw them move, it was the day I'd told him something that, to me, was common knowledge.

"Silly little Lovi~, I'm not going to your brother's party without you. It's your birthday too."

I still don't fully understand why that affected him, but I do know that he lifted his head and with a desperate hopeful look in his eyes, asked me if it was true, if I was really picking him over his brother. I guess that was it. Not many people pick him. But, in any case, when I said that of course I was picking him, his wings lifted and fluttered around him, showing the joy and amazement that his curling lips were trying to hide.

It was a wonder, the sight of those beautiful feathers flittering around. It was that moment, that my goal changed to the desperate need to see his wings full again. I wanted to see him fly. I needed to see him fly. No matter what it took. That's still my goal, my reason for being.

People ask me a lot why I love him. Why I spend so much time chasing him when he never returns my feelings. It's because I see something they don't. I see my beautiful little angel. My Lovino.

It's taken me years and years of reassurances of love, but I'm helping to put his wings back together and I'll continue until the end of time.

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><p><strong>So that was weird. But thanks for reading! Review? I'm considering posting more oneshots as extra chapters of this, opinions? <strong>


	2. Dance with me

**Set with same little soul thingy, just fyi. **

**I don't own Hetalia! **

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><p>The music twirls through the air, matching the smooth movements of the dancers and their partners. Every step perfectly in sync, every soul blending beautifully with it's match. To me, the souls made the dance floor all the more beautiful.<p>

Not that I care at the moment, all my attention needs to be focused on finding my Romano. The Italian arrived before me, along with his (adorable) little brother and Ludwig, and I haven't managed to find the boy yet.

It took forty minutes, one confused little brother, one annoying Englishman, and two perverted friends to locate the brunette.

He had hidden out of sight along a wall gripping a glass of wine and scowling at the floor. I smile softly before hurling myself over and throwing my arms around his shoulders, spilling his wine and gracing the world with a cuss. His insults assault my ears in a voice that belongs with hugs and cuddling, not crude shouts, but his wings flutter lightly, and his eyes glimmer with hidden hope.

He claims that he's not hiding, he just hates dancing. But I've twirled with him enough to know that he loves it, when he has a good partner. I smile blindingly and laugh, then take his hand and pull him, stuttering and cussing, to the middle of the room.

He blushes, but stops complaining, and seems more than happy to put his free hand on my shoulder and dance with me. He tries to keep distance between us, I know he's scared of what people would think, we've never danced together in front of anyone. I feel my expression get softer as I carefully pull him close, whispering to him not to worry, no one will say a word, and if they do I'll look after 'my most precious Lovi'.

Lovino blushes furiously, but slides closer anyway, telling me that I'd better. And then we start to dance, not the careful, basic dancing we've been doing up until now. No. Now we really dance, we twirl and turn and dip, we move in the way that is completely natural to the two of us. We've danced like this since Lovi first came up to me, stuttering and asking me to teach him to dance.

His wings lift. Matching our movements perfectly, and not for the first time, I wish I could see my own soul so that I could see how ours look together. But it doesn't really matter. I can't bring myself to care to much, because now Lovi is laughing and smiling and he looks so purely energetic happy that I can't bring myself to care about anyone else. Not about weather our souls match, not about the people around us, not about his little brother.

All that matters is Lovino. My beautiful Lovino, who is finally happy. This is the first time I've gotten to hold him like this in front of people. I want to hold him close and never let go, I want to let everyone know how much I love him, and I want them to know that he is mine. Finally, after years and years he's mine.

So I do, I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer still and pressing him tight against me and brushing my lips against his. People around us freeze and stare, Lovi seems rather shocked himself, but he appears to be okay with it, pressing back gently before pulling away and muttering a soft complaint. I just laugh and twirl him again, smiling as his wings flutter so hard I fear he'll actually take off.

Eventually, the song ends, then the next and the next. We continue on for ages before tiring and slipping off to the side. Lovino's face is flushed with joy and he allows me to hold his hand as we walk and I can tell, no matter how much he denies it, that he's having as much fun as I am.

After all, his wings are fluttering.

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><p><strong>Thanks so much for reading! Please review!<strong>

**And especially thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, favorited, etc... :) **


	3. Thunder and Lightning

A quiet mumbled of "Antonio" from the doorway breaks through the darkness in my bedroom and I find myself jumping in spite of myself.

I whirl around, one hand grabbing a pillow and the other reaching for the sword that's still mounted on the wall from my pirate days. But, before I can reach it, something not so small and shaking collides heavily with my body, almost knocking me backward. "Lovi?"

The terrified teen grumbles about the use of the nickname, but continues clinging to my night shirt and really, it's hard to be mad at the little Italian. It takes a while to figure out what's going on, but eventually I realize that it's raining out, something that hadn't bothered me in the slightest. I thought the sound of rain was sort of pretty and comfortable. Lovino however has always had a very different opinion on rain and, more importantly, the thunder and lightning that so often accompanies it.

When he was still a young nation, Lovino used to start crying and shaking, hurling himself under his covers whenever he heard thunder in a desperate attempt to hide from the loud noise and block out the harsh light flaring through his curtains.

I had no idea until after he had with me for a year or two. I walked into his room to offer him a tomato and ask him if he wanted to sit and read with me, the fact that he hated both myself and reading hadn't seemed very important at the moment. I remember bursting into his room with a laugh which died in my throat as the sight in front of me. Lovino was sobbing, tiny hands pressed over his ears and his eyes squeezed shut. When he finally noticed me, I expected him to cuss and demand for me to get out. I definitely hadn't expected for him to run over to me and cling to me, much like he is now. He pressed himself as close to me as possible and begged that I keep him safe.

Soon I got into the habit of sliding into his room to hold him when he cried. He fought and argued that he 'didn't need help from any Tomato Bastard, damn it!' but that didn't stop him from curling closer.

When Lovi moved back to Italy three years previously, I'd lost the habit (after running into his old room a couple of times to try and look after the no longer there boy) and to have him come running in again now was a shock.

He's here for a visit, he insisted that he just needed to get away from his brother, but really, if he hadn't missed his wings wouldn't have lifted when I met him at the airport, or fluttered nervously when I grabbed his hand and lead him to the baggage claim.

I pull myself out of my musings and wrap my arms carefully around my Lovi. In spite of his terror, he was still just as stubborn as ever, refusing to admit he's scared even as he clings. So, I just hold him and whisper soft words of love, and running my fingers through impossibly soft hair, doing my best to avoid the one harsh curl.  
>It isn't until the storm ends that he stops his shaking, but he doesn't pull away as I watch his wings slowly lift and relax.<p>

He tilts his head just enough to one side so he can talk without being blocked by my shirt. "Thanks, bastard."

"Anytime, Lovi."

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><p><strong>Thank you too everyone who reviews, favorites, or alerts, but also thanks just to everyone who reads! :) It makes me really happy. <strong>


	4. Hurt

**This is a request from LovinaxTonio95, who asked for the story mentioned in the first chapter about Lovi's hurt wings. So I hope this works for that :). Angst warning... **

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><p>The door makes a loud thud as it opens and hits the wall, I would have stopped it, if I wasn't too busy staring at the sight in front of me. Lovino stood still, staring at me, a blush spreading furiously across his face. He's gripping a dust cloth in one hand, my favorite vase is laying, shattered on the ground in front of him. The house all around him is a mess and the note I left asking him to clean the place up is still taped to the door. I try to calm down, to think that, really, he's clearly been trying, if the cloth in his hand and the smudge of dirt on his cheek was anything to go by. My attempt at logical clear thinking failed.<p>

"Antonio- I- I'm really-"

"Shut up."

He freezes at my words, clearly shocked, not that I can blame him, I'm rather surprised as well. Not that it matters, I'm too damn angry to care.

Lovino stutters, trying to ask what I mean.

"I'm mean shut up. You stand there, breaking and cussing out everything that moves. You think so damn high of yourself when all you do is screw up, you are such a damn disappointment," my voice is a quiet hiss, harsh and furious.

I almost stop when I look back at him again, I almost get a hold of myself and think, just from the scene. Lovino is shaking violently, tears stream unchecked down his cheeks and his wings… God his wings. Blood drips from them, pooling at his feet, feathers shake and fall away slowly.

And yet, though one part of my brain wants to pull him into my arm and gasp apologies, I don't. It doesn't matter that I'm clearly killing him, or that I know just how insecure he is, but at the moment I don't really care. All that matters is that he's messed up yet again.

"God Lovino, must you be such a failure? You're a useless," he gave a muffled sob, "irritating," a tear slowly appeared behind his left shoulder, "worthless," the rip slowly spread across the entire wing, "little boy. Why can't you just try to actually do something right for once." By now, blood is poring down his wings, staining the lovely, pure, white of his wings.

I know, in all logic, that the things I say are incorrect. I know he tries, I know he's not worthless, he's my lovely little Romano, and I adore him, but why the fuck do I care?

I'm too angry, way too angry. And on top of that, there's the pirate part of my mind, the part that likes this, likes being feared, likes seeing his shake.

"An- Antonio- I'm sorry, I swear, I'm sorry." He sobs, clearly desperate. "I'm trying, I'm trying as hard as I can."

He looks at me, pleading with broken amber eyes.

I laugh under my breath, "If this is as hard as you can try, I have no use for you at all, now do I? I really wish I'd been given your brother."

He freezes, stops shaking, stops sobbing, he just doesn't move. And, looking at his eyes, I can tell that he is broken beyond anything before. I know that, in the last few minutes, I'd hurt him like no one else. He expected me to look after him, and I'd ripped him to shreds. Even through my fury and sadism, I know just how low of a hit it was, reminding him of the difference between him and his brother. I know Lovino always depends on me to love him most, out of everyone, I'm the only one to love him most.

I laugh again, scoffing at his expression and without another word, swept past him to my room.

My room, where I listen to my beautiful Lovino fall to his knees in the hall with a loud thump.

My room, where I listen to the sobs of sharp, strong south Italy.

My room, where I listen to the most perfect creature in my world fall apart.

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><p><strong>Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading! <strong>

**And also, to LovinaxTonio, I really hope this was what you were looking for :). And, for anyone else, if anybody has any sort of request go ahead :). **

**Thanks again for reading! **


	5. Recovery

**This is kinda a continuation of the last chapter. Since a couple people requested to see either Lovi's wings repaired or (in one case) Antonio swallowed by guilt. **

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><p>I blink my eyes open slowly, sit up, and stretch. I smile and glance around, wondering what I can get to eat, and then I remember. I realize everything I did last night and freeze. Lovino. I destroyed Lovino. I sit still for a moment, listening to the house hoping to hear crashing of furniture or smell tomato sauce cooking. The house is motionless.<p>

I stand slowly slid out into the hall, the house is spotless, the tomato bowl filled, and even the window have been washed. I can't help but be rather surprised that Lovino managed to get it all clean last night and I know I should be thrilled.

I'm not.

All that I can think of is that facial expression, those tears, his wings. His beautiful, white wings all torn and bloodied.

My poor Lovino. Darling Lovino.

I call out his name, suddenly panicked. I hurt him, I did that to him, and I took pleasure in it. And then I left him. I ripped him apart, insulted him, compared him to his brother, and then I rejected him and left.

He doesn't answer my yells. Whether because he can't hear or he doesn't want to hear, I'm not sure. I just take off, running down the long halls of my house, calling his name, pleading with him to answer as I throw open doors, desperate to find him. I search for almost a half an hour before I find him, my house is massive, much too large for two people. When I finally see him, he's curled up on the floor shaking, on a balcony on the top floor. I gasp his name and watch as he raises his head, slowly as if it weighs a ton and his neck can't quite support it.

He whispers soft apologies and curls tighter around himself, trying to explain, with as few words as possible, that he cleaned so I have nothing to worry about.

His wings are still torn and bloody, hanging limply by his sides like they were when I first saw him, his face tear-streaked, his eyes bloodshot. It's hard to imagine that the broken creature in front of me is my strong, temperamental Lovino, but I know he is.

I stumble forward, hating myself for how he flinches as I approach. When I'm directly in front of him I pause before my knees give out and land on my knees before him with an ungraceful thump. I force him to lift his chin and look at me, "I'm so sorry Lovino. I'm so, so sorry, please know that I didn't mean it. Please Lovino?" And before I know it I'm sobbing and stuttering, trying to convince him that my words were untrue. Partly so he'll forgive me, but mostly because he needs to know that I love him most, more than his brother or anyone else, and that no madder what he's not any of the insults I hurled at him.

"What did you call me?" He whispers, still not meeting his eyes. When I just tilt my head to the side in a silent question he continues, "Since when do you call me Lovino? You always call me Lovi or some equally stupid nickname. Does- does that mean you don't love me anymore?"

I freeze, unable to form a coherent sentence for a moment. He seems to take my silence as an agreement, since he breaks down crying again and returns to stuttering almost silent pleas at forgiveness. I pull him close, hugging him and answering with equally shaky 'I'm sorry's and 'Ti amo's.

I find myself hating myself more with each passing moment as I hold him, because the blood on his wings is drying and disappearing, but the rips are still there and the once so energetic movements have all but stopped.

We both stop crying eventually, sitting together, clinging to each other occasionally whispering, apology on my part and forgiveness of his. And, though I can't quite get past the self hate and fear for his destroyed wings, I find myself wondering at the way he lets me hold him, how in spite of all this, he still seems to trust me, how he doesn't try to leave. I would let him. If he stood and left I wouldn't stop him, after all, I can't expect him to forgive, just as long as he knows that it's not his fault.

It's been almost an hour and we rise. He pulls me gently to my feet, saying that we should go make breakfast, I consider arguing, keeping him there with me, but he's still in my arms as we slid out of the room and down to the kitchen, so I keep quiet.

We work together to make breakfast, which is rare in it's self, but it's better this way. Anytime we come close to each other, I brush against him softly, either my hand against his skin or my lips against his hair. They're light, feather touches, and I know he understands my silent apologies. Each touch is accompanied by a whisper of love or a gentle compliment and slowly his wings lift, moving carefully. They're still torn, but seem to be slowly healing and the movement encourages me to try harder to help him.

The next few days pass slowly, with the two of us staying together almost constantly, never apart for more than a few minutes. Lovi sleeps in my king sized bed, hogging blankets and accidently kicking me in his sleep. I laugh when he does, it's not hard enough to hurt and really, my Lovi is just so beautiful in his sleep.

There was definite progress over the course of the week and it's clear Lovi will be okay, but I'm not at ease again until about half a month later, when I return home to find Lovi curled up on the couch fast asleep, house a mess, tomato bowl empty, his wings fluttering lightly as he dreams.

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><p><strong>So, um, I did my best? I'm working on the other requests (they made me happy thanks!) and if anyone who requested this isn't satisfied with it tell me and I'll try doing another chapter that's better :). Thanks so much for reading! And to everyone who reviewed, you guys have no idea just how happy you made me :), thanks. <strong>


	6. Between the Tomatoes

**This is for a request from amerique. Sorry if this isn't what you were looking for! **

**Also, Lovino's age kind of changes from chapter to chapter, in this I think he's around fifteen? Maybe? **

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><p>Belgium Misunderstanding.<p>

"Lovi! Lovi~!" My voice echoes slightly in the massive house as I search for Lovino. I'd spent the morning making churros and wanted to offer him one. Sure he's spent years telling me how my food pales in comparison to his pizza but really, he never turns down my food so it can't be that bad.

He's not anywhere downstairs and he avoids the upper floors at all costs, he has since he was young and used to live here, so he must be outside somewhere. I bit back a laugh as I run outside in search of my Lovi. He'll be thrilled when I give him these, I just know it.

I find him sitting outside talking to Belgium, she grabs his hands and I can't help but pause. She was smiling at him in a strangely loving way, she chimes something I can't quite catch and he seems to take a deep breath before speaking.

"I love you, so very much. You're really- you're important." My entire body freezes. Lovino loves Belgium. Belgium? I could have sworn he got over that crush. He's still speaking, voice slightly fearful and wings quivering nervously, but I'm really not listening anymore. I storm forward, glaring daggers at Bella, not only is she touching my Lovi and trying to steal him away, she's also doing all that in my garden, the one Lovi and I worked on together.

Her eyes widen as she sees me, she yanks her hands away from his and hisses at him to be quiet, which just proves to tick me off more.

"Lovino, what the hell is this? When did this happen?" I hiss, trying to keep from growling at him, I'm well aware that I can't say anything about this, if Lovino wants to date _her_ then I can't complain, it's not like I ever asked him out or told him I-. Oh no. No, no, no. I will not think about the boy I raised that way...

"What? No, tomato bastard, wait a second before you jump to any damn conclusions! It's not like- I don't- no!" Lovino stutters, his wings are flittering so harshly and randomly, showing a nervousness I've only seen from him once or twice when he was very young. His brilliant blush slowly spreads until he's a pretty little tomato red. He looks from me to Bella and back again before mumbling something about it not being worth it before running out of the small garden and through my rows of tomatoes.

Belgium stands but doesn't move, biting her lip as we watch Romano disappear. She turns slowly to me, and gives me an apologetic smile, "It really wasn't what it looked like. I know you probably hear that a lot but, really, it wasn't."

I glare daggers at her, I can't find it in myself to be mad at Lovi, he's too precious to me, but her, her I can be mad at. Shoving the plate of food into her hands, and turning away from her, I jog after Lovino.

"Lovi! Lovino, wait for me," I find myself yelling at him. It takes much longer than expected to figure out where he's hiding and when I finally do see him, he's ducked down between the Heirloom and Cherry tomatoes. His face is buried in his arms and his wings beat rapidly in what appears to be panic.

"Lovino, what's wrong?" I whisper softly, kneeling down in front of him.

He jumps slightly, looking up, he scowls and refuses to meet my eyes. "I- I didn't mean I loved Belgium, I- well I was trying to figure out how to tell the person I love that I love him, and she said I should practice saying it, so I did." He stutters, still scowling and blushing such a furious shade of red that it was hard to keep from laughing. He just looks so precious and, though I don't know why, my heart leaps at the phrase, 'love him'.

"Then who do you love?" I ask, strangely hopeful.

"I- well does it matter? I mean- I- what is it to you bastard?" He snaps, by the end of his sentence, his blush has spread to his neck.

"Lovi, please tell me? I want to know who I'm losing you to," I tilt my head to the side, too focused to care that he's staring at me in shock. Though I'm rather curious as to why his wings are beating even faster.

"An- Antonio, did you just say- what?" I just raise my eyebrows and repeat myself, only to be even more confused when he hugs me around the middle for a moment before pulling back. His blush deepens even more. "I just meant, when I do fall in love, practice for the future and all that crap. So don't worry, bastard."

I consider pushing the issue, but really, he isn't leaving me, and his wings are calming down, sliding into the soft, excited movements that I only see when he's truly happy. So, I just grin and pull him back into a hug, ignoring his curses and blush, choosing instead to hold him as tightly as I can.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Please review if you can get the chance? It makes me really, impossibly happy. <strong>


	7. Defense

Lovino has never openly asked for my help in defending him. He always insists that he can handle himself, something about Italian pride. When I do try to defend him, he cusses me out and glares, refusing to allow my assistance.

He also refuses help in emotional matters. He's so very stubborn. He can come home, wings drooping, eyes glimmering with tears, and still hold his head high and say that 'of course nothings fucking wrong you bastard!'. He'll hide then, curled up in his room with the door shut and blinds drawn. I always follow, knowing that he needs me, no matter what he says, and do my best to help him. Hugging him, whispering soft words I know will remind him just how loved he is.

So, when he comes home shaking lightly, shoulders heaving with unuttered sobs, I expect that he'll be running past me and into his room with nothing but a half hearted insult.

I'm not, at all, expecting him to hug me around the center briefly and mumble a request for help. But I'm more than happy to oblige.

I run a hand through soft brown hair, returning the hug with a kiss on the forehead as interest. In spite of his request, he refuses to tell me exactly what happened, beating around the bush for a while, wings shifting uneasily as he calms and tries to return to acting as if nothing is wrong. And, slowly, we return to the usual situation.

He tries to leave, stands, hiding his shaking knees, and, chin raised defiantly, says that he doesn't actually need help, that he was just testing me, just tired. His wings hang, and for the first time I notice something. A cut, it runs along the edge of the right wings, small, almost hidden by his shoulder, but definitely there, and definitely new. I freeze and look closer at the wings, my eyes narrowing on the small spots that miss one or two feathers, the way other feather seem slightly bent and ruffled. And suddenly, I don't care exactly how much he denies it, someone hurt him. Someone hurt my Lovi.

"Romano," the use of nation name makes him look back at me again. The brunette stares at me for a moment, surprise and confusion written across his face. Rather than apologize or restart, I lean closer, eyes shifting from the pure white feathers to focus on eyes, and request, though it comes out as a demand, he tell me what happened.

He continues to refuse, arms crossed, sadness hidden behind a mask of determination, for a few minutes before giving in.

He sighs and ducks his head before mumbling softly. I have to make him repeat himself twice before I understand the statement. The quiet whisper of the fear I know he's had hidden since he was young. The fear that someone told him was a reality.

The fear that he is nothing. Nothing but a weak shadow of his younger brother.

I forget how to move for a moment. I know Lovino has always had issues with self-esteem. The first time I found out about his fear I asked him to explain it to me. I wasn't sure what I'd expected but his response wasn't it. He whispered quiet insults against himself, called a nothing but a little boy who couldn't step out of the shadow of his little brother. When he has these moments of clear, painful insecurity I'm never exactly sure what to do. I can't comprehend his view. He's scared because he thinks of himself as weak, ugly, second rate, and when he first voices the opinions, I don't understand. It's hard to see him that way when I see him the way I do. Eyes sparkling even behind his scowl, pure white wings fluttering softly, lips curling gently at the corners. So pure, so beautiful and perfect that I can't see him the way he does, I can't even begin to imagine him as anything but my precious Lovi.

He shifts, uncomfortable, still afraid it's true, and I know my silence doesn't help, but I'm not sure what to do. It isn't until he tries to flee that I reach out to him, hugging him against me, refusing to listen when he hits me and demands to be released. His wings slowly start to shake harder as the tears he tried so hard to bite back, well back up until he can't help it anymore and they spill over. Once they do he seems to give up, fisting my shirt and begging me not to leave him, pleading with me to keep him safe and to care.

I simply hold him in response, whispering reassurances and watching his wings heal. I'm happy to hold him, but in the small back of my mind that remains a pirate, I know I'll find out who exactly told him that, and I'll make them pay. After all, they hurt my Lovi.

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><p><strong>Um, so, that was another request, from sailorwinx. I liked the idea, but I'm not a fan of how it came out though... I'm sorry I couldn't do it more justice. <strong>

**I'm working on other requests (feel free to send them in if you have an idea and want me to give it a shot), but I think the next chapter will probably be something random I'm working on, sorry. **

**Also, sorry, just one last thing, pbjeran asking for a fic about what happens when they're having sex. I'm trying to do that (and so far failing miserably) but it'll be posted separately. It's not going to be detailed (at all) and I'm sorry if you wanted it to be... and will just pretty much be completely about the emotion... Sorry? **


	8. Lullaby

**Um sorry for the random, weirdly fast update? Just fyi, this is kinda a song fic, with Lullaby by the Spill Canvas. **

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><p>I pause, and tilt my head to the side as a soft song drifts out of the kitchen, twirling through the hall. I recognize the song. I used to sing it to Lovino when he couldn't sleep. I smile and drift towards the noise, listening to the pretty little melody. I don't make it very far before stopping as a voice joins the sound.<p>

_"It's the way that you blush when you're nervous, it's your ability to make me earn this, I know that you're tired, just let me sing you to sleep."_

The voice is lovely, a stunning baritone, carefully controlled, quiet and sweet. Full of more love than I can really comprehend.

_"It's about how you laugh out of pity, cause lets be honest I'm not really that funny, I know that you're shot just let me sing you to sleep,"_

Everyone who knew Lovino and his brother had heard Feliciano sing, it was high and cute, it held all the energy and happiness that were the main traits of the younger Italian. Singing was one of the many things that Feli impressed people with, it was a talent of his along side his art, food, optimism... but I'm fairly certain no one has heard Lovino sing. I can remember trying to get him to sing with me when he was young, asking that he join me in singing and him rejecting me adamantly.

To hear him now, voice soft and controlled, as if he was trying to keep undetected was a wonder in and of itself. And to realise he still remembers this song from all those years ago...

_"If you need anything just say the word I mean anything, rest assured if you start to doze then I'll tuck you in plant my lips where your necklace is closed."_

His voice lifts and falls perfectly with the music playing softly in the background, filled with more emotion than imaginable. I wonder for a moment if he's thinking of me singing him to sleep during thunderstorms or when he had a nightmare, does he remember all that?

_"It's those pills that you don't need to take, medicating perfection now that's a mistake. I know that you're weak just let me sing you to sleep."_

His voice seems to catch for a moment on the word perfection and I know now. He remembers. He remembers me singing, remembers how he argued that I shouldn't sing songs that weren't true, and how of course it couldn't be true. Not about him anyway. He remembers me laughing into his hair and whispering the lyrics in spite of his arguments, not stopping my recitation until late in the night when I knew he was asleep.

_"It's your finger and how I'm wrapped around it, it's your grace and how it keeps me grounded. I know that you're spent, just let me sing you to sleep."_

Feliciano's voice never sounds like this, never so full of raw, desperate, loving emotion. Never so alive, so real. And I know, it's because Lovino is so very different. He could spend a lifetime trying to be his brother and never succeed, but when he is Lovino, he is so much more. So perfect, so beautiful.

_"If you need anything just say the word I mean anything, rest assured if you start to doze then I'll tuck you in plant my lips where your necklace is closed."_

I lean forward, now at the entrance to the kitchen, watching Lovino sing as he cooks. He doesn't see me, and I'm to caught up to speak, so I just listen, heart swelling with emotion, a parallel to his voice as it swells, raising in volume and power with the music.

_"While you were sleeping I figured out everything, I was constructed for you, and you were molded for me. Now I feel your name, coursing through my veins, you shine so bright it's insane, you put the sun to shame."_

The words, so painfully sweet, have never sounded better than as he sings. By now I'm shaking lightly, though I'm not sure why. Watching his wings flutter with the music, the light kissing them as if it has no other purpose. There has never been anything more perfect, more stunningly, mind bogglingly beautiful, as far as I'm concerned, and I wish with all of my heart and soul to never leave this moment.

_"If you need anything, just say the word I mean anything. I really do. Rest assured if you start to doze, then I'll tuck you in plant my lips where your necklace is... If you need anything just say the word I mean anything, rest assured if you start to doze then I'll tuck you in plant my lips where your necklace is closed."_

His voice tilts down again, softening and making each word mean so much more. And, it isn't until the song slows to it's end that I realize that my chest actually hurts with emotion and I've been holding my breath, scared of interrupting the song. I stay silent for another moment, clinging to the song as it dies away.

"Bello," the word slides through my lips without my telling it to, a whisper of reverence that makes Lovi jump and whirl around, eyes wide with fear and cheeks red with embarrassment.

Through his stuttered insults and embarrassed pleas for me to forget what I heard, I move closer and extend an arm, finger tips brushing along his hair, cheeks, jawline, before grasping his hands and resting my forehead against his. I'm not sure what language I speak as I whisper compliments, whisper love. He grumbles and pulls at his hands half-heartedly, but his wings seem to dance with joy at the praise and curl around us slightly.

I can't help but allow the word to slip out, "Perfection."

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><p><strong>Sorry, I just really couldn't help it? I'm kind of addicted to this song, it's just too sweet. <strong>

**Thanks again to everyone reading, reviewing, favoriting, etc... Please review if you get a chance and that's so very much for reading! **

**Oh, and Bello means beautiful in Italian. (or I think it does...) **


	9. Colourful Eyes

**This is another request, it's Lovi's POV. I'm not crazy about how it turned out but yeah...**

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><p>The lilting, accented voice pushes through my morning drowsiness, mumbling sweet nothings, and waking me up in spite of my clinging to sleep. I pull tighter into myself, trying to ignore the fact that my eyes are still slightly sore from crying the night before, and blush at the impossibly familiar smell of the Spaniard I know is laying next to me.<p>

He smells warm. Like sugar and earth, even a little like the rain, whose loud companions scare me so much. The smell is like love. Like childhood and affection and everything I've ever loved in Antonio.

The smell has soaked into the blanket wrapped around my legs and the sheets under me. But, it hasn't quite saturated pillow, not completely anyway. There I find a strange combination. It's a mix of his warmth and a tinge of a different scent that, after a minute, I realize is my own. I bite back a smile at the knowledge and chose instead to wonder whether to get up or not.

Eventually, I pretend I haven't woken, deciding not wanting to get up or face his worry after my thunder induced panic attack. Antonio always babies me the morning after a thunderstorm. When I was young I appreciated it, but now that I'm older, I can't help but find it slightly demeaning.

Warm arms slid around my waist and lips brush past my ear. "I know you're up, Lovi," the whisper summons blood to my cheeks and I find myself fighting between two wonderful choices. I can't decide between headbutting him and spitting insults or curling into his arms and spewing previously unshed words of love. I wind up rolling over and pressing into his chest instead, ignoring the cooing voice that's dripping with more love than I can process. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

For the longest time I simplily lay there, enjoying the feeling of being held, a comfort I avoid regularly. I know he loves it when I'm like this, when I relax into him and bath in his love, it's a rare situation for both of us and it's common knowledge that as soon as I wake fully I'll be jerking away, cussing violently and pretending I feel nothing for him. But, at the moment, I don't, and at the moment, we both know what my approval means.

It means I love him.

I won't ever say the words. At least, not until I get over my past, but at moments like this, early in the morning or very late at night or even in the middle of a storm, we know I love him. He sees this just as clearly as the rest of the world sees he loves me, when he praises and smiles and laughs.

His love is obvious, clear and open. Mine is closed in, controlled, and hidden. But, they're both clear at this moment.

I pull myself out of my mussing to look up at him, forgetting the thoughts and smells to wonder at his eyes. The green is lovely in any one's mind, but they're so much more to me.

I can see things in people's eyes, their beliefs, hopes, everything. It's an all access pass to a person's true nature. When I was young and told Feli he started gasping about souls and other nonsense.  
>No matter what it is I see, I know what it is real and I know it's changed my view of everyone. I see good things, positives and others, but I also see the negative. The malice and hate. Antonio doesn't have that. His eyes hold a twisting, twirling design of a hundred different colours, shifting with his thoughts.<p>

At the moment, the lines shimmer a light violet, creating beautiful veins in the deep green. The pupils glance back over my shoulder. It's a strange habit I've always noticed but never bothered to question.

The violet is a colour I only see when we're like this. It's a colour I know means he love me. He may make it clear, but, for some reason, seeing it in his eyes, it's so impossible to doubt.  
>I bite back another smile and burrow back against him, deciding that I'd be glad to sleep for just a little longer.<p>

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><p><strong>Ugh. I'm not a fan of this one, but I did the best I could? I spent ages trying to decide if Lovi should be able to see souls, so um, he kinda can? Just not in the same way. I hope it was okay. And sorry for Lovi being OOC, I'm not sure how to write Lovi in this kind of situation, it's hard to make him openly loving, so yeah... sorry... In any case, thank you so very much for reading! Please review if you get the chance? I'd really appreciate it. <strong>

**Also, I'm still working on the other requests... I'm kinda failing at the moment though...**

**The request by Pbjeran mentioned last chapter has now been posted! **

**Thanks again! **


	10. Birthday

**Um, I updated, finally? This is a request from Yuri n' Chuka, it took me about two months to actually get it done, so I apologize for that! The request was for something to do with Feli and Lovi's bday. Enjoy. **

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><p>"Lovi~!" I laugh loudly and sprint down the hall to the kitchen, skidding on the tile. He tosses a glare at me over his shoulder, grumbling something I can't quite hear.<p>

"Happy Birthday Lovi! Why are you cooking? You should be relaxing," I gasp, shocked at the idea of him up and working on his birthday. My words are ignored in favor of the cornettos he's baking.  
>It takes a moment of stubborn pestering before he's willing to respond, and even then the only reply he'll give is a sharp, "It's baking not cooking you bastardo."<p>

"But, Lovi~, birthdays are a time for relaxing and having fun with your loved ones~! You shouldn't be cook-," A sharp glare corrects me, "Baking all alone. Let me join you," My excited exclamation is the cause for more sharp glares, which I ignore, encouraged by the unusual lack of cusses.

This abnormality is set right the moment I try to touch the food he's been working with. The cusses that shower the air feel almost right, if not for his wings. They're shifting and curling with what seems to be unease and I can't find it in me to just leave him alone with that knowledge. I do, however, stop trying to help bake and choose instead to wrap my arms around his waist, to his chagrin.

"Lovi, you should relax~. I'll make you breakfast and then we'll go visit Feli and we'll all celebrate your birthday together~," I coo, hoping that the idea of spending time with Feliciano will cheer him up.  
>It doesn't.<p>

He jerks from me and hisses in a voice full of venom, "No, I am making my own damn food and I'll spend today how I want, now get the hell out of my kitchen." This time he really seems to mean it, pushing me away when I try to approach him and glaring at me furiously. I lean against the wall and watch him work, with my head tilted to one side, painfully confused as to why his face is so red and why his wings are drooping so much.

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><p>"Lovi~! It's time to go~!" I call with forced warmth, hopefully Lovi'll be in a better mood by now. After he finished his breakfast, he stormed out of the room and disappeared to his (our, we've started sharing a room when he comes home) room, locking the door and refusing to let me in. When, half an hour ago, I asked him for permission to enter so I could get ready for the day, he stormed over to the door, threw some clothes at me and proceeded to slam the door shut again.<p>

I'd been calling him down for half an hour and I finally hear the door open. Lovino appears at the foot of the steps, clothes rumpled and hair (for once) unbrushed. The edges of his eyes look suspiciously red, but he's still glaring.

"Lovino? It's time to go," I feel almost like I'm approaching a wild animal.

"Yeah. I heard you the first time. Che palle," he allows his voice to trail away in a series of curses. I'm not listening to exact words though, instead I watch his wings, hanging limply behind him, not ripped or bleeding like the past, just sort of lifeless, and I wonder why. No one has insulted him, or picked on him. He hasn't been left behind or overlooked due to Feli- and then I get it.

"Lovino. Why don't we stay home?"

"What the hell are you talking about, bastardo?" He spits in my direction, though he's not quite looking at me.

"I'm talking about not going. If we go we'll have to worry about Feliciano and Ludwig and all the nonsense that comes with them. I'd much rather stay here with my precious little tomate," I coo, watching his reaction as I slide closer to him.

He stays quiet and shifts back, but his eyes flick to my face for a moment, studying me with a glance. "I'm not a tomato, and it's Feli's birthday too, don't you want to wish him a happy birthday?"

I laugh happily, pleased that he didn't cuss that time, "But you're just like a tomato, Lovi! And I can wish him a happy birthday tomorrow." I almost dance closer to him as I speak, and this time he doesn't back away.

"But you love Feliciano too, and tomorrow won't be his birthday," His voice is testing, careful.

"But I love my Romano more~," I'm literally singing by this point, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close to my chest as I continue to coo, "My precious, little Tomate~. Te amo~, Lovi," the phrase slides out without me noticing for a moment, it's only when he answers that my words catch up with me.

"Ti amo, bastardo," He grumbles and his words are most likely the best thing I've ever heard. He quickly pulls back, blushing furiously, but smiling a little too, "We're going to visit my fratello, it's tradition, just give me a minute to take a shower."

I nod as he flees up the steps. My smile is wide enough that it hurts my cheeks and I watch him go, his wings lifted, fluttering and twirling around him.

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><p><strong>So, I hope you liked it? Again, if it's not what you wanted feel free to tell me. <strong>

**Thanks for reading! If you can please review, flames and corrections are taken happily. **

**(Also if any of the languages are wrong please tell me!) **


	11. New Friends

**Yay, another update! This is a request from lunynha, hope it's what you were hoping for! If not feel free to tell me. **

**Oh, and in this Lovi is young. Also the request was to have Antonio get jealous due to seeing Lovi get along very well with Canada! **

**Enjoy. **

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><p>I smile softly down at Lovino as he tries to hide behind me without looking afraid. Originally, when I'd told him about the new possible friend for him, he'd been incredibly excited, all questions and smiles, but now he seemed terrified, years of comparison could do that to a person.<p>

Francis had sent me a letter, about a month ago, saying that he had a new colony about Lovi's age. The colony is called Canada- the boy named Mathew Williams, supposedly he's adorable and soft spoken, the twin of that damn pirate's colony America.

Mathew hides behind Francis as well, though he doesn't seem to care if Lovino knows he is scared. It takes a while of pressing and whispered assurance on both sides before the two slid closer and introduce themselves.

Once they do, however, things change quickly.

Before I know what's happening the two are talking and playing, heads bent close together as they whisper quickly to each other in English, a language Lovi normally refuses to speak. For a few minutes I watch only Lovi, observing the thrilled look in his eyes and the half concealed smile decorating his face, his wings shift around the two, including Mathew as though it's the most natural thing in the world. Then I turn my attention to Canda, blond hair, purple eyes, an impossibly sweet smile. His soul is relatively controlled, just barley reaching out to embrace Lovino. I see all of that, see how very sweet he is, how he and Lovi get along so well.

And I hate him.

I hate him with a burning temper for one simple reason. Lovino is smiling for him. Lovino doesn't smile easily, he'll only show this side of himself to myself and Feli, both of which are are rare, and here is this little colony belonging to one of my oldest friends, making him open up like it's nothing.

Lovino doesn't spend much time with other nations, he's still young, surrounded by nations much older than he and separated from his brother, so he doesn't have many opportunities to make friends. He acts as though he doesn't care, as though he doesn't want more friends, insisting that he can that care of himself. But he can't. He's lonely, and this much is apparent by his furious joy at his current situation. He and Mathew compliment each other nicely, Lovino loud, Mathew quiet, but neither are too outgoing, both overshadowed by brothers, and both lonely. It's clear that the two will be firm friends for a while. That should be enough to make me like the boy, but it isn't.

I force down the emotions, choosing instead to focus on my conversation with Francis, some discussion about the new world and conquering faster than the ass who crushed my precious armada, but it's hard to pay attention. The two are now running around, not playing any real game, just running and claiming that the other broke some nonexistent rule for no reason other than to pretend it's a real game.

Lovi is laughing, loud and clear. It's a special noise, not normally hear and never so loudly. My little Romano is always much more careful with his emotions, hiding them away and only showing them in the wings that are now all but shinning in the sun and twisting along with the blonde's own soul. A growl escapes me at the idea. Lovino, more comfortable with some stranger than with me? My mouth burns with the same furry I feel when he chooses to sleep in the other room, with his brother, rather than with me. I want to snatch up my little colony, want to run, want to refuse to share him with anyone.

I don't say a word, nor do I move from my spot.

After hours of biting back rage, hours of sitting still and watching Lovino make a new friend, and hours of ignoring Francis's annoyingly knowing smile, the day ends and it's time for us to go. I want to run and never return, Lovino safely with me, but Francis demands I stay long enough to make plans to go out with him and Gilbert. Then, finally I call my Lovi over, insisting that it's time to leave. The two boys both beg for more time, which Francis grants, still with that evil little grin, before I can argue. It takes another half hour before I put my foot down, telling Lovino to say goodbye.

"Bye, Lovi!" The blond whispers in a sweet little voice that I'd adore if it hadn't just called _my _Lovino 'Lovi'.

"Ciao, Mattie," is the response, coupled with a small grin. And, then we're leaving.

I resist the urge to scoop Lovi up into my arms and carry him, only relenting when he yawns widely. "Grazie, Spana," the words are quiet, almost silent as he curls up in my arms, not fighting for once.

The words are small, the gesture almost unheard. And, suddenly, I find myself forgiving Mathew Williams for trying to steal my Lovi away from me (for I know that's what he was trying to do), because Lovi looks so peaceful there. The small, Mediterranean country is quiet and warm, a little half smile brushing across his lips, left there from hours of playing with someone his age, one of his first close nation friends, possibly the first made out of choice, rather than due to a political alliance or family ties.

And I decide, maybe Mathew Williams isn't so bad.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed it! <strong>

**Please review if you get the chance, thanks so much for reading! And I'm really sorry to everyone whose made a request that hasn't yet been filled, I'm working on them, promise. **

**Also random note, I LOVE ROMANO CANADA FRIENDSHIP! Probably cause of the brother thing? *shrugs* whatever, it just makes me smile. **


	12. Interaction

**Sorry for the forever wait. Also, this was written in the middle of the night... so it may seem kinda screwy and random? **

**This is a request from Cactus Luv. (Please tell me if it isn't what you wanted) **

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><p>The twirling colours seem to blend together, melting into each other to form a dull shade I've almost grown accustomed to. The blend doesn't move the way souls should, it just sits there, obscuring my view. I blink hard and bite back an admittedly uncharacteristic mumble of irritation. My usual smile is absent, replaced with a frown, small by normal standards but massive for me. Large groups of people have never been a favorite of mine. When I lose focus (a common problem, if I'm being fully honest) in a large group the souls of those around me, normally so unique and pretty, merge into the disgusting mush. The colour and stillness feel unnatural and faintly worrying, like something will go horribly wrong if I don't separate it out again into distinct souls.<p>

I zero in on one person at a time, to regain normal sight, first Francis, darting around the room after someone or another. I study the Frenchman, narrowing my eyes until I can just see the twirling green vines and the red buds blooming against smooth, fair skin. I continue my careful inspection, picking out minute differences in the blossoms as my friend's conversations progressed.

Once satisfied, my gaze shifts to Gilbert, watching the murky shapes around him solidify, taking on blues and purples. The blurs form into small birds, flying around him haphazardly, occasionally voyaging out to dance alongside the delicate red and white butterflies belonging to Francis's ex-colony, Alfred's much shyer brother.

The air around Arthur slowly clears into a green and red mush, which eventually solidifies into a small group of hummingbirds. They dart between Francis's roses and Alfred's little white rabbits, much like the old pirate's gaze, making it painfully clear just how confused Arthur's affections are.

Feliciano's soul is the hardest to catch, appearing as a hundred colours and shades, all twisting out from him in a mix of creatures and patterns, entertaining and exciting, but unreliable, a fair representation of the younger Vargas brother. His soul, currently forming twisting, swirling patterns in the air, moves around he and Ludwig, brushing past its simpler coloured counterpart, as if looking to play a game together.

My massive smile is back in place on tanned skin, as I watch the interaction around me. People seem to always say I can't read the atmosphere, but it's hard, telling what signs are physical and what is from the souls. What looks like two friends fighting to anyone else, looks like love to me. The confusion changes most people's opinion of me. My eyes remain fixed on Feli's soul as I think, studying its shifts and changes.

"Che cazzo. Why are you staring at my brother like that, bastardo?" I whirl, laughing at the sight of Lovino's contradiction. His lips were pushed into a scowl, but his wings flutter sweetly, apparently happy to see me.

"Like what, Lovi?" I tilt my head to one side.

"Like he's the most fucking fascinating think on the planet," Lovino is half growling now, his wings beat twice in apparent anger, leaving me with mental whiplash as I try to keep up with the mood swings, he so often suffers from.

"Silly Lovi~, I wasn't staring at your brother. Just into space. I'm sorry for making you think that, after all, I was just so bored without mi querido~," I coo warmly, thrilled at the blood pooling in my Lovino's cheeks.

The light teasing continues for a few minutes, as I wonder how Lovi's and my souls interact. I wonder if they dance around each other like Gilbert and Mathew's or if mine tries to get the attention of his like Ludwig. It takes a while for me to come to the conclusion that our's would act differently from everyone else, dancing together the same way we do.

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><p><strong>Yeah... wasn't sure how everyone else's should look or how to end it without sounding obnoxiously cheesy... so... sorry? <strong>

**Thanks for reading and please review if you get the chance! **


	13. Safe

**Kinda angsty...**

**(Also there's a POV change, it starts as Lovino and turns to Antonio.)**

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><p>My head spins and fingers shake. The malice in the ex-nation's red eyes seem to reach for me with inky black tendrils. I want to run, to get out while I can, but know France will grab me if I try. And, then I'd have to see the other man's eyes, filled with an emotion so often on the man's face and so utterly terrifying to me.<p>

When faced with the choice, I'd rather deal with Prussia's black sadism than France's orange lust.

The albino knows this and the knowledge brings a smirk to his lips, "Well, Romano? Are you planning on answering my question? Why are you still here? Italy is unified, right? So you aren't needed anymore," the hissed words bite into me, demanding the answer I don't know myself.

"I don't know. I- I," The words die in my throat. And though something in me wants to fight, to cuss and scream and hurt the other man, I can't. Not when I've asked myself the question so many times.

The tiny strong bit of me tries to take control of my voice, to spit that I'm needed just as much as he is. But the words don't come, remaining locked in the back of my mind instead.

"I could make use of him," the words, tainted with a painfully clear implication, danced from France's lips. His heavy accent curls the phrase in on itself and somehow, in spite of the known meaning, it seems like a casual suggestion. "After all, there must be some reason Antonio keeps him around. He has had years to claim the boy, non? If he hasn't done it yet then little Romano can't be that important, and if he has then he won't be too mad, I'm sure, if I just take a little share."

Prussia laughed his response, "Focusing your efforts on Romano now that my bruder has Ita?" There is a hummed response, followed by, "I guess he could be an okay replacement… Care if I join?"

I only half hear the quiet approval as my mind breaks into desperate, raw panic and I bolt. My attempted escape, however, is blocked easily as France grabs me and Prussia yanks my head back by messy locks to hiss in my ear, "Don't even think about it, you whinny, weak, useless little brat."

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><p>"What did you just call my Roma?" my words sound poisonous even to me, so it's no surprise when the two nations whirl around instantly, looks of worry clear in both their faces and souls.<p>

"Ah, Antonio," The blonde man's voice drips with sweetness and, for the first time since my armada days, I want to slice into him with the axe sitting in my attic. "We were simply playing with little Romano here. Nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, chill out Toni. We're just messing around, being awesome, the usual," Red eyes flitter nervously between my, most likely raging, eyes and Francis's sleazy smile and pale fingers slowly unwrap from the strands of Romano's hair.

I ignore them both for a moment in favour of studying Romano. His hazel eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, don't seem to register that I'm even there as they shoot around the room, looking for an escape. His wings jerk and twitch like a butterfly trapped in a glass. He's yanking desperately against the two boys, trying to get free, and, based on their positions and everything we got up too back in our pirate days, it's not hard to guess just what they were planning to do to him.

The thought completely destroys any little bit of self control I had left. In less than a moment I find myself reverting to my old day as a conquistador, as a pirate.

"France. Prussia. We were friends, so I won't kill you, but if you don't let go of my Romano, now, I will rip you limb from fucking limb, got it?" I spit the words, not caring how shocked they look at the cuss. A flick of a smile touches my lips as they release my boy. He stumbles forward, confused, before seeing me and hurling himself to hide behind my back. I brush a finger tip against his cheek, watching his wings slow as he calms slightly. The smile turns cruel again as my gaze locks back on the other two nations, and my next words come as a purr, "Good, now, what was that you were calling my little Roma?"

The two share a glance and stumble over their words, struggling to find the proper response. There is none.

"My Roma is not whinny, weak, or a brat, and how dare you call him useless. How _dare_you plan to use him for that. Let me explain something to you two, if either of you ever so much as lay a finger on him, I will slice you into such tiny pieces- I still have my battle axe, understand?" the words are hissed, sharp and cold, and the two don't seem to know how to respond, leaving them hanging in the air until I demand an answer. The stuttered 'of course's and apologies are ignored as I turn my attention back to the nation behind me.

"Romano? Lovi, mi carino, are you okay?" I coo, inspecting his wings as I do so.

"S- si," the words is stuttered, his cheeks flushing a deep red as his voice catches lightly. His wings seem to be healing already, a shock seeing as my two friends are still leaving and I haven't had a chance to calm him down myself yet. "I'm fine, bastardo… grazi."

It's all I can do to catch the last word, and when I do, I can't stop from pulling him tightly against me, cooing endearments and love in his ear like it's what I was born to do, like I hadn't threatened my two best friends with death just moments before. I half wonder why he's coping so well, but can't quite bring myself to care. It's not for a few more minutes that he speaks again. The words are both surprising and expected, they are, quite simply the break down he avoided before. A quiet plea, in a quivering voice, to not let them hurt him, to keep him safe like I promised when he was just a kid. I pull the shaking boy closer, whispering promises. Watching as he curls around me, clinging to my shirt as his wings calm to a soft shifting around us.

"_Te Prometo. Ti Prometto."_

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><p><strong>Hope you liked it! Sorry for making Prussia and France the bad guys...<strong>

**Thanks for reading, please review, and leave a request? I think I might have gotten all the ones left so far except one (from black-misty-sky, which I am working on, I swear), if I missed any others please remind me and I'm sorry!**

**(Also, thanks to ChibiAnimeFreak for pointing out my mess up in Ch. 10, I just got around to fixing that, kept forgetting, so thanks!)**


	14. Guardian Angel

**First off- **Romano is young in this, like a little kid. So hopefully I didn't mess up and include any romance (also that's why Roma doesn't really cuss). The italics at the beginning is a slight flashback, but not very far.****

**Second- T****his isn't a request like it really should be, I got distracted by a tiny angel figure I was given... I love angels~**

**Third- Enjoy. **

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><p>"<em>What's this?" The small figure catches the light as I turn it gently between tanned fingers. <em>

"_What do you think, stupid? It's a guardian angel. This way you won't come home all beaten up anymore. That's what a guardian angel does, right? Looks after people?" the harsh voice fades away and the Italian boy shifts nervously, freshly healed wings twitching behind him. _

_I stare for a moment, unsure how to handle my favorite lackey, before scooping the small boy up and cooing in his ear, "Little Roma wants to keep me safe. Gracias mi niño~." _

_The child flounders in my arms, flushing furiously and trying to break free, "I- I just don't want to clean up the bloody, you jerk!" _

_He fights furiously until I release him with a loud, excited laugh. I smile brightly as he hurls himself up the steps, shouting insults over his shoulder as he goes, and, once he's disappeared from view, I turn my attention back to the figure in my hands. It's small and surprisingly beautiful, almost entirely white and silver with a translucent blue bead as the head and a flower shaped underskirt. The wings are the most detailed part of the charm, and I wonder for a moment if Romano has somehow learned about his own ones, but that idea is pushed away quickly in favor of inspecting the gift closer. A small silver loop attaches it to a narrow rope, clearly meant to be worn as a necklace. _

_Once every tiny detail has been memorized, I bite back another grin and slid it around my neck. The charm sits on my chest, just above my heart._

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><p>My head pounds and knees shake, threatening to buckle under my weight. A trail of sticky, red liquid follows me, splattering the rain-drenched ground thickly in some spots and falling in tiny specks at others.<p>

I stumble into the house, bloody and weak. It takes everything I have left to call for Romano. He shuffles down the hall, rubbing sleep from hazel eyes, white wings stretching carefully behind him, only to freeze when he fully sees me.

The stunned, "Spagna?" just barely reaches me before my body gives out and I fall. Tiny hands grab at my arms, attempting to hold me up and prevent any more damage from my hitting the floor. The last thing I feel before blacking out completely is miniature drops of salt water trailing down my mangled skin as Romano sobs.

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><p>Sun light pushes through my eyelids and, when I finally open them to look around, the first thing I realize is I'm on the couch, still wearing my bloody stained britches and the angel charm necklace, but the rest of my uniform is missing. My injuries have been wrapped, and the blood's been cleaned from my skin and hair, apparently by way of the buckets of water and stained cloths on the ground.<p>

A small movement on the ground draws my eyes down to where Romano lays, curled up on the floor next to the couch. His clothes and hands are smudged red with my blood and it's clear he's been crying. His wings are ruffled horribly, feathers falling out in one or two places.

I waste another second studying him before reaching down to scoop the boy into my arms and cradling him close. His eyes blink open slowly, only to fly wide at the sight of me awake.

"Spagna?" Are you okay? What happened?" The words are gasped as he frantically checks over the few injuries he can reach.

I smile at him for a moment before replying, "I knew my little Roma cared~."

The boy stares at me for a moment, eyes wide with surprise and what looks vaguely like worry. "You- you bastardo!" He hurls himself against me, knocking the air from my already battered lungs, and proceeding to hit my chest lightly with impossibly tiny, tan fists, wings beating furiously behind him. His voice is desperate and panicked, and I realize for the first time that he actually cares whether I come home or not. I also realize that, a young nation as Romano, seeing me so hurt, probably assumed I'd die the way a human would have. "I was so scared. I thought that when I gave you the angel, I made it clear that you're not allowed to get hurt anymore. No more getting hurt!"

The voice trails off into sniffles as the boy cries against my chest. I simply sit still, rubbing circles against his thinly covered back until the tears stop.

"Roma, it's okay, I promise. England- he destroyed my armada, it hurts, and politically I've lost a lot of power, but I'll be fine. I am fine. So, see? The charm did work," I coo into his ear, in hopes to clam him. A smile dances across my face when his disbelieving glare is cut off by his own yawn.

With a small chuckle, I curl in around mi angelito and, encouraged by the lack of arguments, fall to sleep.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading, please review?<strong>

**mi angelito = my little angel (I believe.)**


	15. Faberge

**Hi, um I'm alive? Sorry about the massive amount of time... **

**This was going to be the request from black-misty-sky but then I finished it and realized I didn't actually do what she asked for... So, I promise that I will write that in the next chapter and I'm so, so sorry!  
><strong>

**(In this I think Lovi's older and they are maybe dating? or close to it... There's also a short time skip in the middle by maybe like an hour or so, but no POV change.)**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"Don't touch that," the voice is accented and snobby as ever, successfully making Lovi freeze for a moment or two before he fixes his lips in a scowl and his eyes in a glare.<p>

"I wasn't going to, piano bastard," wings pull close in as form of protection against the Austrian's haughty expression.

"I'm glad to hear it. Now, Spanien, what did you need, and why did you bring Italien Süd along?" the cold, purple gaze zeros in on me, sizing me up. If our history together is anything to go by he most likely assumes that he shouldn't have allowed me into his house. But, then, I'm used to that from him.

My smile is brighter than it should be as I chime, "Just political conversation, I'm hoping that you can get señor Fischer to meet with señor Zapatero and Rey Juan Carlos. Por favor, Roderich? And why wouldn't I bring Lovi along? I couldn't leave him behind," I can't help the slight shock that leaks into my voice at the idea of leaving Roma behind, all alone. I'm almost too shocked to notice the irritated look Austria tosses in Lovino's direction.

"Spanien. That is no reason for you to be invading my house and interrupting my practice," he snaps, the lecture would have probably continued if Romano hadn't shifted backwards to lean against the wall lightly and bumped into a table in the process.

The shattering sound seems to echo down the overly long, strangely clean hall, before trailing off and leaving a heavy silence in its place.

"Um, Roderich," I try carefully, when the man simply stares at the large shattered Faberge Egg.

"That- that egg has been in my possession since its creation in 1887. It was made under the supervision of Mr. Peter Carl Faberge himself along with the other Imperial Faberge Eggs, it was presented to me by Russland as a peace token. There is no other in the world exactly like it. It is worth more than you can comprehend. And you broke it," the words are carefully controlled, frozen into ice that directly contradicts the diplomat's furious eyes. "How could you be so clumsy? You've been here for five minutes and you are already ruining everything. I see why Spanien wanted to trade you when you were a child. Your brother could clean and cook and you can't even stand there."

The venom in his soul is enough to keep me frozen in place for a few more moments as he spits more insults, his words are designed to cut and are easily staining pristine white into a murky greyish red. And, by the time I'm able to think straight again Lovi is shaking and has stopped trying to defend himself.

My body moves faster than my mind and suddenly I'm standing between the two, physically blocking the half nation from Austria.

"Enough," again, my body acts without my consent, though now it's my vocal cords acting out, "No more Roderich. It was an accident, no more, so there's no reason to get so mad."

The musician opens his mouth to reply, but I take a step forward and continue, "And, more importantly, I'll thank you to never speak to my Lovi that way. He's much less clumsy than many other nations, yourself included and he certainly doesn't ruin everything. Apologize."

"What do you mean apologize?" the question is more that of shock than anything else. I know it and force myself to keep my temper in check while repeating my demand until he gives in.

My temper dies even more when Lovino nods and mumbles a quiet, "It's fine… stupid, piano bastardo." The shaking has stopped and his wings, though not quite patched up or moving just yet, are no longer bleeding. He's managed to save face by holding back any trace of tears through the confrontation.

"Now, you will talk to your boss. Lovi and I are leaving. I'm very sorry about your egg, we'll pay you back for it." I turn to go before stopping again, "And, you should know, my Lovino is worth more to me than Feliciano ever could have, so don't dare insinuate that Feli is better," There's silence in the house as I wrap an arm around my Italian's waist and pull him away with me.

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><p>It takes a ridiculous amount of work to make myself break the silence that still surrounds us, as we slide from the car and amble into our home, "Lovi?" He tosses a slight questioning look over his shoulder on his way into the kitchen which I take the look as an invitation to continue. "So, are you okay?" He doesn't respond until he's leaning against the counter, arms folded and a tomato gripped tightly in his left hand. Even then the answer is only a sharp nod and a glare when I push the subject.<p>

His wings remain still.

We spend a few minutes on picking out something to make for dinner. All my suggestion are deemed 'too Spanish' by the boy.

After a good half hour of hesitation I grab his right wrist and pull him against me, holding him close when he tries to yank away. He spits insults and demands that I let him go so he can plan something good, but his words lack their usual strength. "My Lovi is so cute when he's acting all strong." I ignore his indignant snap at the word acting and continue, "But then, he's always cute. _And I wouldn't trade him for the world_. Not for the all the Austria's and Feli's in the entire world."

"Bastard, I get it, you like me," he spits, and grumbles about annoying clichés. But, when I loosen my grip to allow him to slip away he holds still for a minute as his wings shift around the both of us. When he does pull away it's just far enough to flip the cookbook to paella.

"But, Lovi, I thought you said-," I'm cut off by a death glare that just dares me to argue and a snap of "I said, Paella." Both of which make me think that he's fine.

A particularly quick flutter proves it.

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><p><strong>First off I think: Spanien  Italien Sud / Russland - Spain / South Italy / Russia (German)**

**Second off I'm not sure (at all) about this but I think Heinz Fischer is the current President of Austria (?) and that Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero and Juan Carlos are the Prime Minister and King of Spain? Please tell me if that's incorrect or anything else about it was wrong... I tried to find out about ambassadors between Spain and Austria but I couldn't figure it out and so I went with that...**

**Again I'm so sorry for the wait! I should be updating more often again... **

**Please review if you get a chance? And thanks for reading! **


	16. Exhausted

**Um, hi? It's been roughly a year since I last updated this hasn't it? I am so so insanely sorry! If people are still keeping up with this story here you go? **

**I know I have no valid excuse but for the record I did try to write this chapter more times than I can count... I just had a ridiculously hard time with all the wordings and junior year is even harder and more time consuming than people warn... **

**I am so sorry! **

**This may not be the best chapter as it's rusty and weakly written, but here goes!**

**So this was a request by erin-flight, over a year ago, I hope it turned out okay for you! (if you read this) The request was: "Spain sad, and an older Romano cheering him up", if this isn't what you wanted please feel free to tell me and I'll try to rewrite it (quickly this time). **

**Enjoy! **

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><p>I chew on the inside of my cheek as I card my fingers through the pile of papers on my over stacked desk. Desperate proposals and plans to fix the economy, fruitless requests from individuals who don't understand the complexity of the situation, and stressed memos from my boss, all cluttering rich mahogany and my mind. I watch each page fall back into place and feel the weight on my shoulders get heavier and heavier until I can barely stand it.<p>

I'm not sure if my legs give out or I actively sit but suddenly I am curled up on the ground next to my desk, chin tucked into my knees, staring at the decorative rug below me.

I'm so exhausted.

Its rare that I get like this. Hell, it's rare that I am anything but dopily happy, I know that. But it's hard, with the economy falling to bits and the stress of trying to calm the king and the people and- and-

"Spagna? Where the hell are you? Fucking big house- Spain?" Lovino has swung open the door and swayed into the room, one hand in his jeans pocket and the other holding a half eaten tomato to his lips. He freezes when seeing me, eyes narrowing in confusion and head tipping to one side before he decodes my dead expression and his eyes fly wide. White wings twitch inward for a moment before fluttering wider with his eyes and stretching slightly forward.

"Hello Lovino," the flat sound of my voice surprises even me. And Lovi moves forward carefully sitting down next to me, close enough for his wings to curl carefully around my hunched figure, but far enough away that our shoulders didn't quite touch.

"So... the hell's going on? Do I need to kill a bitch? Please say it's the albino potato bastard? Or fuck face? Either way," I feel a tiny smile flicker across my lips before it falls again, but it's enough to give him the confidence to lean closer, skin brushing skin in a silent sign of support.

"Just country things, stress, just silly stuff," I try to force a smile, which Lovino snorts at, grumbling about stupid tomato bastards. He turns to look at me, still cursing under his breath quietly before I see him freeze out of my peripheral vision.

There is a shifting beside me and it takes a moment before I realize Lovino is slowly shifting his arms to join his wings around my shoulders.

"I'm sorry Spagna, I- I didn't mean to insult you, don't cry Spagna," his voice is quiet now, barely a whisper. Long thin fingers reaching over carefully, brushing tiny drips of water I had not noticed before from my cheeks with gentle fingers. "Please don't cry."

Feeling the digits and arms against my cheek and shoulder and the light, fluttering feathers around my body hit me hard, and next thing I'm shaking and sobbing against Lovi, who has no idea what to do. He pats me lightly on the top of my head for a second before giving up on that approach.

"It's okay Spagna, I understand. Shh, it's okay," the mumbles would be pathetic from anyone else, but from Lovi... the fact he was trying...

"Please don't cry Spagna, it's okay, come one, I'll cook dinner tonight, just- just don't cry."

Long white wings wrap tighter around me until I can see nothing except them and Lovi.

"Spagna, please. Hey, look at me," He grabs my chin and turns it to face him.

"Don't cry Antonio, it'll all be okay. I promise," he smiles shakily and kisses me lightly on the head like I used to when he was small, allowing his lips to linger on my skin as he continues, "I've got you, Antonio."

I smile and kiss his cheek in return, "Thanks Lovi."

He moves as if to pull away but I hold him there longer, "Don't leave yet Lovi, just a few minutes then we can go cook dinner together, si?"

He's silent for a moment, wing tips curling in and away and then in again as he contemplates, before making up his mind, "Si, fine. But we're making pizza. Proper Italian pizza, got it?"

I chuckle, agreeing happily, and tuck my chin into his neck, cuddling up to him instead of the other way around for once. And surprisingly, he does not fight, choosing instead to hold me with arms and wings both.

By now, I've stopped crying but Lovino continues to rock me slightly, still waiting until I'm ready to move. It's a nice feeling, being held by Lovino, and I continue enjoying the feeling as long as he will allow me.

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><p><strong>Spagna - Spain (Italian, I believe?) <strong>

**Thank you so much for reading and putting up with the time. Updates should be better now that school is out and junior year is over with. **

**Thanks so much again! **


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